


The Lady Said No

by Sabriel (the_one_a_m_writer)



Series: The Lady Said No series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, POV Original Character, POV Outsider, bar brawl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_a_m_writer/pseuds/Sabriel
Summary: A stunning redhead and a drunk asshole walk into a bar.





	The Lady Said No

 

The woman who enters the bar is gorgeous. 

She’s stunning. Her skin glitters in the subtlest way. She’s got perfect red cupid’s bow lips to match the red gem glittering at her throat, and a little black dress that reveals the curves of her breasts when she leans forward. 

Half the patrons of the bar are staring by the time she gets to her seat. 

She taps a blood red nail on the counter. “Vodka martini.”

“Right away,” Blake says. “You waiting on someone?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, and peers around the bar. 

She’d look out of place, what with those flat silver bracelets and rings far too nice for the normal clientele, but there are many men and women in business suits here tonight. That’s odd. 

 

The man who enters the bar looks a little scuffed up and drunk before he sets foot in the door. 

Something pings in Blake’s mind. This man is trouble. His looks are foreboding. 

He sidles up next to the woman. 

“Hello, gorgeous.” 

She turns away, sweeping her drink off the table and into her hand in one smooth motion. 

“Aw, sugar, don’t be like that. Can I buy you a drink?”

“I got one,” she says shortly. 

So the man sits next to her. He taps the bar. “Beer. Whatever’s cheapest.”

“Sure,” Blake says, unwilling to turn away from this scene. 

 

The redheaded woman finishes the last of her drink. Fairly quickly. She’s been nursing it all this time and now it’s gone. 

“I can’t help but notice,” the raggedy man leers, “you ain’t got a drink anymore.” 

The beer he drank appears to have tipped him over the edge. He’s leaning heavily on the bar. 

“So mind if I buy you one?”

“I mind.”

“Aw, you sure? It might sweeten you up a little.” 

She makes the mistake of turning around a little.

He leans in close. He’s breathing on her face. Blake watches with disgust. 

“Fuck off,” she says. 

“Don’t be that way,” he drunkenly implores. 

“Hey!” Blake interjects. “The lady said no!” 

The lady turns and gives him a smile.

“You’re sweet,” she says. “But I have this one under control.”

“Whaddya say, hottie, wanna dance?”

The redhead gives Blake one last stunning smile and swiftly backhands the raggedy man with her perfectly manicured hand. 

He goes flying. 

Flying. 

He crashes into two other patrons. 

 

Pandemonium. 

 

...

 

Blake peers over the edge of the counter and notices somewhat vaguely, amidst the destruction, all the men and women in suits are unfortunately unconscious. That’s gonna be hell. They’re so fucking sued. 

The redhead and the raggedy man are still here, standing, but oddly...

What...

The redhead is tenderly wrapping a cut on the raggedy man’s arm, and says, “You fucking dumbass, you’re gonna have to get a tetanus shot again.”

“Oh, you know me, I just can’t wait for the next one,” the raggedy man says, sounding very sober. “Hon, you got any cash?”

“No pockets,” she says apologetically, giving him a shit-eating grin. 

“You’re lucky I’m wearing pants. With, like, wallet pockets. That’s what I meant. Pants with a wallet in them.”

“I’m lucky you’re wearing pants, too.”

He grins. “No, you’re lucky when I’m  _ not  _ wearing pants. And I’m in bed. ...With you.”

“Game needs work,” she says, patting his shoulder. 

“What? ‘Hottie, wanna dance?’ That’s not a turn-on?”

“Clint, you’re an ass.”

“Thanks.”

They pick their way over to Blake. 

“Sorry ‘bout this,” says the man, who has lost his drunkenness and his southern accent. “I got, uh... a thousand ninety seven dollars. And three cents. Here.” 

“You don’t need to...” Blake says. 

“I mean, we trashed your bar,” he says. 

 

They leave. As they leave, the not-so-raggedy man leans down and whispers, “Do you want to come home with me tonight?”

She smiles at him, and kisses him passionately on the lips, and darts off like a swallow. A black motorcycle roars off.

He smiles after her and rubs red off his lips. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> me @ me: for once in your life can you complete a goddamn story  
> me: sure but like. none of my wip. we're going with a whole ass new story  
> anyone interested in more Natasha and Clint Bar Shenanigans? with blake? without blake, Sabriel, we don't want your ocs here? suggestions accepted!


End file.
